Running Down A Dream
by Ginjaninja32
Summary: Set in Fallout 3 timeline in the remains of Chicago. Story follows David, a servant of the community council. Little do they know, the Enclave is about to make a visit! Feedback is welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: THIS IS MY FIRST PUBLISHED FAN FICTION. PLEASE COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. IF REVIEW IS POSITIVE I WILL CONTINUE WITH THE STORY. IF NOT, ILL PROBABLY CONTINUE ANYWAY. THANKS FOR VIEWING!**

He composed himself quickly, taken aback by such a blatant accusation.

"Sir I hardly see why that matters", he said, straightening his back and looking as dignified as possible.

Sir spoke through a mouthful of turkey. "Just answer the question. If it is truly embarrassing for your tongue to utter-" he swallowed, " -the truth, then entertain me with a lie. See which holds fast, your pride or your integrity."

He knew he couldn't outright lie to a councilmen and not face severe punishment, but perhaps he could avoid the question long enough to find an excuse to leave. He was secretly hoping one of the other men would take pity on him and demand he be left alone, but unlikely. He was little more than a doormat in their eyes, a puppet whose strings they could pull for their own amusement. Oh how he was sick of it.

"I am compelled not to answer on the grounds that such answer could tarnish my credibility within this establishment. Furthermore sir, I wish to continue my previously assigned duties of collecting the dinner plates and returning them to wash." He said it calmly enough, but underneath he was livid.

Lemons, the fat Sir who was tormenting him, stared at him for a moment still holding a half-eaten Turkey leg in his chubby little fingers. Grease was shining from his double chin and in that moment he looked like an enormous baby, beady little eyes looking both curious and stupid.

"Fine," he said, again like a small child, one who was not getting to play with his favorite toy. _But I ate all my carrots mom! Look, I did!_ He dropped the turkey leg on his plate and a little gravy splashed up on both men. Then to add insult to insult, he took the lapel of David's only serving jacket and wiped his greasy face and hands with it, really digging in there to assure it would take a long time to come clean. Then he chortled, almost a snort. "Get this shit out of my face, boy." David remained stoic as he had been taught, remembering his place. He silently collected the plates and other dishes from the table while the council spoke in hushed whispers. He didn't pry, but he overheard some snippets.

"-activity in the northeast-"

"Scout reports suggest-"

Blah blah blah. More talk of war on the horizon. That's all it was. Talk. The council was too chicken shit to act so they sat around and talked. Pecked at the issue like chickens, while claiming to be the farmer who controlled the harvest. They didn't control shit, and people were starting to realize it. Eyebrows really began to raise after Commander Roland stepped down as Council Chairman. Pushed down, more like it. CM Roland was brash and poignant, a powerful leader of men who wore his experience around him like a scarf. He looked for real issues and had an honest interest in the betterment of the community. If anyone was qualified to lead the Council and make decisions for thousands of people it was that man. But he was gone. Washed away in a smear campaign full of erroneous accusations of misappropriated funds, bribery, and even molestation. All that remained was a bunch of chicken shits and fat, self-serving Fucks like Captain Lemons. David threw a final reproachful glare his direction as he headed back to the kitchen with the dishes. He unloaded them next to the Mr. Handy robot who cleaned them and plopped down on a nearby pile of milk crates. He was so tired. Of everything. The constant belittling, the political bullshit. But mainly he was just tired of waiting for things to change that obviously weren't going to. Nothing was changing, in the Council or in his own life. He was still just a sad butler who was paid too little and got shit on too much. He should have taken Jax up on his offer. Maybe being a raider would-

-BOOM-

A crippling explosion came from below, shaking David's train of thought and sending pans flying off their hooks. What the fuck was that? Shouting and noise from outside. were those gunshots? Laser rifle blasts? David directed Mr. Handy to follow him as he grabbed a large steak knife from its block and headed into the dining hall. The council was already fleeing upward to their saferoom, the preassigned hiding spot for all chicken shit leaders in case of an attack. But was it an attack? What if a generator exploded or something? Lord knows that old jank shit was just bound to go some day. But in his gut he knew that this was no generator. Smoke rose from the large window outside the dining hall. He could hear more shouting and yelling below followed by a volley of rifle blasts and conventional gunshots. Finally! All these years of playing man servant to those fuck heads and now he had a real chance to do something with himself. He could hear the blood pounding in his head as he headed toward the stairs, intending to go down and see what was what. But as soon as he crossed the threshold to the stairwell it all went wrong.

Dark hands reached from nowhere and grabbed him by the shirt, pushing him back into the room. Before he could get a grip on what was happening the world became a dark and cloudy place. A large metal forehead slammed into his and he collapsed in a heap of pain and shock. It was like someone had taken a sledgehammer and cracked him in the face with it. Thinking became an impossibility, even existing was a burden. He saw the world through a cloudy veil, dark shapes moving above him and mufflthed, nonsense noises. He heard a large crash that was probably the toaster, and he thought he might want some toast to go with his soup tonight. And then, blackness.

CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON!


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FIRST CHAPTER. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO GIVE FEEDBACK AND CRITICISM WHERE NECESSARY.**

When we are born, we have nothing. When we die, we leave with nothing. Everything in between, is up to you. Inside the darkness of your mind resides the agonist of your being. Around the edge of darkness rests the shadow, and in the shadow there is power. Do not fear the shadow. Embrace it. For it is you.

David awoke with an ear-splitting headache and a strange dryness on his tongue. Oh god it was like he got skull fucked by a death claw. His ears rang like the obnoxious garbles of some sadistic muse. He tried to get his wits about him but everything was wavy, uncertain of its own solidity. The room swam in many directions at once, it was worse than the worst drunk he had ever had. What was happening?

He sat up from the cold steel he lay on and waited for the dizziness to wear off. When it did he began to notice things. First off he wasn't in his serving clothes anymore. Instead he was clothed in a drab jumpsuit with the number 33 patch on the chest. Secondly and more importantly, he was in some sort of cage. Not a conventional cage; this one had four solid walls of the same grey drab he was wearing. There was a single rectangular window through which David could see nothing but a section of empty hallway. A solid looking door next to it and a single chair were the only fixtures. There were halogen lights in each of the corners. Suddenly there was a whooshing of air and the door opened.

A man carrying a clipboard and wearing a labcoat walked in with two armed guards in tow. He was what you would think of as a a scientist, clean cut and almost soft looking. His hair was slightly long but well kept. He wore thin, wire frame glasses. The guards were not like that. They were both clad head to toe in some dark shell that David could only guess was Power Armor. Their faces were expressionless masks of mystery. Hoses came out of either side of their metal cheeks and looped around to some sort of canister on their back. They both carried sinister looking laser rifles. Who were these guys?

"Ah," the man in the labcoat said a little too cheerfully. "You're awake."

"Where am I?" David asked, his mouth very dry. It was little more than a croak.

"I wouldn't worry about that right now." Labcoat smiled and grabbed the rooms only chair. He sat down in it next to David and smiled that creepy smile. "How are you feeling?"

How was he feeling? He had been knocked unconscious, kidnapped by some strange force and was starting to think he was part of a fucking lab experiment. Things were really looking up for him.

"Where am I?" Barely a whisper. Where was his spit?

Labcoat frowned. "Now David, it's rude to answer a question with a question. Now please, tell me how you feel."

Rude? Who was this asshat and how did he know his name? Why couldn't he find the power to stand up and choke this little prick until he stopped asking his pedantic questions and started answering some?

"I feel...like choking you." His gut tightened up, and he locked eyes on Labcoat like a hungry yao guai. The room suddenly began to feel very pressurized, all the little atoms in the air pressing into every inch of his tingling skin. His nape hairs stood up and the muses were crooning in his ear again. Do it, they whispered. Labcoat held his gaze, refusing to back down. Maybe he wasn't as soft as he looked. Maybe he was soft on the inside. David thought he would find out.

Something in his eyes must have given it away because the moment he shifted his weight to pounce on this questioning stranger and rip his throat out, the two goons stepped in between them and each put a hand on one of his shoulders. They shoved him down, but not too rough. Either they were very strong or he was very weak, because he was powerless in their grasp. He felt the white hot anger surging through him, the muses beckoning him to come forth and kill, to bask in the glory of their death, spill their blood upon the ground and write poems in their memory. He wrestled to break free and crush their stupid fucking skulls. Fuck them! Fuck this place! But he could do nothing but struggle.

Labcoat smirked, wrote something down on his clipboard and stood to leave as David thrashed about. He seemed unbothered by David's murderous intentions, as if he had suspected just as much to happen. But how? David was not typically a raging murderer, but something had consumed him. Something carnal and impulsive. Something he was not in control of. Suddenly the hands on his shoulders released him like the hands of God himself. He never felt so weak in his life. The room became wavy again and he struggled to keep himself sitting. The anger that had run hot under his skin had passed, leaving only a feeling of intense pressure and lethargy. The three men left without a word, and while they had come bearing questions it was David who felt he had questions that demanded answers. Who were those men? Where was he? Was he going to die here? Why did his emotion erupt and attempt to swallow him whole? All these and more swam through his mind as he attempted to make sense of everything. He lay down on the cold floor while the room span and span and tried to make the feeling go away, but it wouldn't. So he just lay there in misery watching the waves crash all around him. He felt like the captain of a sinking ship, the world crashing down around him and all he could do was try to keep his head above water. All he could do was hope for the tide to wash him ashore. He felt so powerless. So worthless.

Eventually he was brought food. It was canned and tasted horrible but he ate it anyway. No one else came to visit him, and he wasn't sure how long he was kept in that quiet hell. With no way to tell the time day and night became fond memories and the only constant was the overwhelming silence and the crippling feeling of being held against your will, with no way to reach out into the world and ask for help. Completely at the mercy of another. He had trouble sleeping and anytime he did get to sleep he had strange dreams of chasing people down and eating them. The next few (days?) passed relatively the same, and then finally, when David was at the end of his rope and his very will to live was beginning to wilt, salvation came in the form of a chair.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Droll thing life is - that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself - that comes too late - a crop of inextinguishable regrets." -JOSEPH CONRAD, 'Heart of Darkness', 1899.**

He didn't feel like a prisoner. He felt more like a neglected pet; _take me outside and let me run around! I promise I won't tinkle in the kennel._ But he lied. He did tinkle in the kennel, handled all his business in the far corner of the room and pretended not to notice the smell. Sad how much we pretend. We pretend to enjoy our selves, pretend to enjoy the company of others, pretend to enjoy the work of necessary hard labor. We faked it almost as much as we were genuine, if not more. How many times had he lied to people? He lied to himself every day. Denying the truth hurt less than facing it, so that's what he did. There was always pretense in a lie. The truth is sharp and painful and often unexpected, like dying. The sun never really rose or set, the sky wasn't blue and the grass was not green (at least he had read that it was green) and nobody gives a shit about you or your dreams. Life was the greatest lie of all. It was just another good vibration. And he was feeling the vibe.

He lay on his back, his jumpsuit pulled down to his waist and his bare skin sticking to the floor along with a thin veneer of sweat. His eyes were cloudy and unfocused. His arms were spread wide-ready to embrace the truth, painful and strange like hugging a cactus. Sweat coated his brow and slowly ran off the sides of his face in dirty streaks. Time was a face on the water. the only thing that really existed was the space between his atoms, excited little molecules bouncing against each other like skittish Brahman, zooming around at the speed of light, lost in a sea of entropy. He could feel the universe breathing, taking in a steady breath of him and exhaling stardust into the ether. His own breath was strong like winds of change that came to blow your house down. He was weightless. Gravity was the true ruler. Even time bent to its will. He felt the mass of the Sun, all six hundred billion tons of pure energy. Mass incomprehensible. But still. Not. Forever. One day even the Sun will die. The room became dark.

He got his wits about him and sat up. It was like he had been asleep for an eternity but also no time at all. Not really asleep, but right on the cusp. Time had no meaning in this place, so his internal clock was all jumbled up. Day was night, night was afternoon tea, and this morning was a motherfucker. Being locked up like this had held one advantage: enormous amounts of free time, which led to equally enormous amounts of thought, self-reflection and philosophical musings about life, destiny, and the nature of man. But he didn't feel as his thoughts were always his own. He had no way to prove it but he was sure he was being drugged somehow. Strange ideas confounded his waking consciousness. Like someone had hacked into his internal plumbing and was filtering their own brand of nuka-cola into his water supply. He didn't taste it in every cup, but when it managed to sneak its way in, he definitely noticed. The thoughts were bitter and hateful like the regrets of an old man, and sometimes they were violent. He had never been a violent person. No more than anyone else. So why now?

Emergency backup lights lit the place back up in an ominous red glow. An alarm began to wail. Maybe this was the universe sending him a message. WOMP, WOMP, WOMP. Pause. WOMP, WOMP, WOMP. This was not a test. Please place your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. Thank you. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly unstable on his feet, and headed over to the door. It had no knob in the inside and was sealed up tight. Nobody was coming to open it up for him either. He placed his hand on the window, plotting. It was cool to the touch and he could feel the heavy thrum of the alarm zooming through it. He looked at the chair that stood by the wall to his left, and it all came together. It was so obvious he didn't know how he had overlooked it before. _Because you didn't want to get out,_ a voice whispered in his head. _You liked being a pet._ No. Be damned if he was going to stay here in some little room to be a lab rat for a group of maniacal nerds and their tin can bodyguards.

He picked up the chair and felt its weight. It felt sturdy and purposeful. He squared up with the great window and felt around for the best grip. All the while the alarm continued to belt out its one-note song. He took a deep breath...waiting. He turned around so he could gather momentum. He took another breath. In. Out. Stardust. And time to go.

He turned, one leg stepping out and hurled that four legged freedom fighter with all his might. It left his hands as an entire chorus of angelical voices sang out his legend and the crowd watched, rapt with anticipation for the glory of their Champion. The chair flew in slow motion, cutting through the air with furious intent. Breaking David out of his prison was its only calling in life. It had been built for this moment. The chair crossed the lightyears of distance to the window in less than a second. The feeble glass retracted from its touch in horror, breaking itself apart to avoid the awesome power of the Lord's stool. Where the chair had melted through the glass there was now only a large, jagged hole leading into the red. Like the gateway to hell. The crowd erupted in cheers. Their champion was free! He stepped carefully through the opening and looked down either side of the long hall, crunching on broken glass. His heart pumped furiously in his chest. God, he felt so alive. Now which way? One end of the corridor led to another set of hallways that branched off in either direction like the head of a T, and the opposite just seemed to go on forever, red bleeding out into darkness that stretched on past the most infinite reaches of time and space. They were just illusions anyway, tricks of our unevolved senses. He wasn't sure that hallway even existed. Maybe it was a trick of his mind and he was actually just looking at a brick wall but his drug addled psyche was unable to differentiate his imagination and the real world. Whatever. He turned down the side of the hall he was more certain was real and never looked back.


End file.
